


Talk Derby to Me

by OffWhiteWarden (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OffWhiteWarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela and Aveline are the Captains of rival Roller Derby teams. And they carry that rivalry off the track.</p><p>(Isabela/Aveline with background Marian/Merrill)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aveline wasn’t the fastest or the most graceful of skaters and she knew it. She also knew it made people underestimate her sometimes, think they could easily slip a jammer past her. And then realise how wrong they were. Aveline was tall and she was strong and she was ruthless. And, at least compared to the rest of the THEDAS League, pretty good at keeping everything on the track. 

Even she was allowed an exception though. 

She arrived early, as usual, the first to arrive. The room felt extra cold when it was empty, off white and muted as she sat next to locker 36. Her hands, rough to the touch, brushed against her neck as she pulled her red hair into a ponytail. The place still smelled like hell, mostly because nobody could be bothered to clean it properly. There was no mist from the showers yet, but the air still felt heavy. Aveline grunted, a hair tie slipping out from between her calloused fingers. She took a moment to look at the floor, a suspicious grey-green, and decided it was better to let that tie go. Turning back to her locker, she pulled at her cloth bag to get another.  
Then she heard the door creak open. 

“Nice to see you big girl.”

Aveline didn’t need to turn around to see who that voice belonged to. She already knew she would be met with that infuriating one-sided smirk. Isabela was a good blocker and a master jammer, she was crafty and vicious and there was a reason that most of the teams in the league refused to send fresh meat onto the track when she was playing. Her fingers relaxed around the new hair tie, and then clenched tight. 

“Isabela”, she said as she turned to face the other woman, trying to include as much ice in it as she could. “Didn’t realise you’d be joining us today.”  
Isabela was just like Aveline remembered her and that wasn’t a good thing. Too cocky for her own good, she leaned against the dented metal of the locker, her reddish-brown skin looking even warmer against the room of blues and off-whites.

“Awww, I wouldn’t miss this for the world”, she says, and Aveline could swear she just saw a wink. Her frown turned into a mild snarl, but Isabela continued as though she hadn’t noticed. “First match of the season. I’ve been cooped up for long enough.”

Aveline felt her gaze dip lower even as she tried to stop it. “So did pirates wear fishnets in place of pants or did you fail history?"

“If I’m doing constant squats for an hour I want my ass to look good… Not that it ever doesn’t look good.”

A sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl left Aveline’s lips. “From what I hear you’re good at those off the track as well.”

Isabela pursed her lips, tilting her head slightly and shifting her weight away from the locker. “At least I actually have the opportunity. It’s been a while since you’ve had a chance. Surprised the Guards don’t consider you dead weight.” 

Aveline, pushing herself off the bench, glared at her, fixing her stare on a point right between her eyes, trying to see as much like the stoic, unrelenting team captain most took her for. But even like this, as she towered over the shorter woman, she couldn’t see a twinge of nervousness. 

“That’s priceless coming from you”, she hissed, “seeing how often you get forced back onto the bench, I’m shocked you’re still even on the team, let alone captain yourself.”  
Isabela was actually silent for a moment and Aveline briefly wondered if she’d pushed her luck too far. Then Isabela took a step forward, the noise loudly echoing in the empty locker room. Then she took another. And another, until she was close enough that if they were the same height they’d be sharing breaths. Aveline’s heart caught in her throat.  
Her self-defence instincts should have kicked in as Isabela leaned forward and clutched a handful of her shirt in a clenched fist. 

“Listen here, Guard Captain”, Isabela’s voice was soft, in a way that Aveline hadn’t expected she was capable of, “I know you think you’re so much better than us. But don’t you dare think we’re not good at what we do. We’ve got a new jammer and she’s… incredible. Small and quick and easy to underestimate and…”

The locker room door squeaked open on its rusty hinges and both women immediately turned towards it, their gazes and attention focused on the woman who had just walked through. She could not have looked more amused, the wrinkling of her nose as she smiled messing up the red lipstick smear across it.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be going now and I’ll tell the others to wait for you to finish your… private business”

“Marian I swear to Andraste this is not what it looks like.”


	2. Chapter 2

The crowd burst into a chorus of cheers and applause as the jam ended. Aveline was aware of how hard she was breathing as she looked out over the large stadium. It was too crowded to focus on anyone in particular, though she knew that Bethany was out there somewhere. She’d refused to sit in the suicide seats when Marian suggested it and had instead retreated a safe distance. Pulling away from the track, she wiped away sweat from her forehead as best she could without taking her helmet off, and reached for her water bottle. The water was almost freezing against Aveline’s flushed face and she gulped down almost half of it before pausing as somebody tapped her on the back.

“Hey! Aveline.”

Stifling a frustrated groan, Aveline placed the water bottle back on the ground and turned around. “How many times do I need to remind you about names?”

The lipstick was even more smudged by now, no longer resembling a swipe, just a stain. Marian grinned, the type of grin that made Aveline know she was up to something.

“Sorry Captain, AcuPuncher, Ma’am”, she teased, the grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Just wanted to ask a favour.”

Aveline didn’t bother hiding the groan. “Can it wait?”

“No, not really.”

“Fine, what is it?”

Marian looked down for a second, shuffling her feet. Then she spoke. “Could you take over as jammer during the next jam?”

Aveline raised an eyebrow. “I’m a much better pivot than a jammer. Why do you want me to take over?”

“I’d owe you one. Maybe more than one.”

Sighing, she made up her mind. _“Fine.”_

Marian smiled, in a way that seemed almost genuine. “Thanks. Oh! And by the way, good job blocking that jammer last bout. The new one, _Val Halla._ ”

“… aren’t you and her…?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t change what happens on the track. Promise.”

Turning back to the water bottle, Aveline picked it up again and downed what was left. “Alright. Give me your helmet cover when you lap me the first time.”

// 

_Val Halla_ wore a look of total confusion as Aveline stood next to her at the jammer line, green eyes open wide in an expression of perpetual astonishment. Aveline didn’t blame her. She hadn’t faced the Guard before, so even if Marian had mentioned her, she still only had Aveline’s appearance to judge. And Aveline knew she was built like a brick wall. Her shoulders were broad, to the point that it looked like she would tip over if she leaned forward too far. She looked about as far from a jammer as one could imagine. But that was the point. She glanced forward, not seeing the front of the pack, but knowing that _Scald Eagle,_ was behind the pivot line. Grinding her teeth against her mouthguard, she counted the seconds until _Low Rider_ started the jam. 

The single whistle was loud and shrill, not so much bouncing around the hall as piercing through it. Glancing up, Aveline saw _Scald Eagle_ launch herself forward, quick as her namesake, then forced herself forward, just behind _Val Halla_ as _Low Rider_ signalled that she was lead jammer. Aveline growled, the noise caught in the guard, and tried to push herself forward, long legs propelling her fast enough to take back the advantage. She broke through the pack like a woman shaped battering ram, bending forward slightly to centre her weight over her skates as she scraped a blocker. There was a sharp jolt of pain as the blocker’s hip hit Aveline’s, but it faded away as she passed the pack. 

Aveline made it half the way around the track before Val Halla managed to make her way through the pack, moving faster than anyone who hadn’t seen her in action before could suspect. Her breathing was heavy and laboured and her mouth dry as she made her way up around the back of the pack. 

She didn’t even notice who she was passing by as she tore through the first members of the pack, jumping over the outstretched legs of people trying to block her. Her landing couldn’t be described as graceful; it was less like a swallow landing and more like an ostrich hitting the ground after being thrown out a plane. But it gave her the momentum to keep rushing forward. _Almost past the pack… almost there…_

Aveline was dragged from her thoughts as she collided with a blocker, skidding to the ground. It took her a few seconds to realise what had happened, out of shock rather than any pain. Dragging herself up from the floor, she noticed the fishnets her attacker was wearing. 

_Isabela._

Growling, Aveline propelled herself forward, using as much force as she could. But it was too late. Val Halla had passed her. Grabbing onto Isa- _Booty Hunter’s_ arm, she was thrown forward with an arm whip. Deciding it wasn’t worth carrying on, she hit her hands against her hips. _Low Rider_ blew the whistle to call off the final jam. 

_Oh shit._


	3. Chapter 3

Aveline was furious by the time she made it back to the lockers. The room was almost empty now, everyone else having packed up and left already. She shouldn’t be angry, she knew. It was her mistake and there was nothing to be gained from blaming somebody else. She grunted, dropping her kit bag onto the bench with a low thud, skates hanging in her other hand. Isabela had just been playing the sport, just like her. It would be unfair to blame her. 

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to. 

She placed her skates next to the bag, surprisingly gently given her mood. But that softness was not reserved for the rest of her clothing. Her helmet was almost torn off, the rough movement pulling hair from her previously neat ponytail, then placed next to the skates. Aveline paused, palms wrapped around the curve of the helmet. 

_Maker, she’d really cocked it up._

She was too deep in her thoughts to notice the footsteps behind her. 

“Hey, Aveline.”

She didn’t bother to turn around. “Hawke.”

“You sound like my mother when you use my surname”, Marian chuckled, before realising Aveline didn’t find it as funny as she did. Taking a few steps forward, she placed a hand on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Aveline…”

Aveline did not have time for this. “What?” She asked, hissing the question through gritted teeth as she turned to face Marian. 

“It’s not your fault. Well…. I mean it is. But these things happen. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t”, Aveline replied, and it was only a half lie.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure”, Aveline paused and thought for a second, remembering the look the rival jammer had given Marian. “Isn’t that girl waiting for you? Val Halla? I don’t know her name.”

Marian flushed. “Yeah. It’s Merrill. And she is.”

Aveline felt herself soften, despite herself. “You two are cute together.”

“Thanks. Uhh, I guess I should go then”, the hand was unceremoniously removed from Aveline’s shoulder. “See you Aveline.”

Saying her goodbyes, Aveline turned back to the bench. Grasping at her jersey, she pulled it over her head, the movement pulling even more loose strands from her ponytail. She shivered, the air cold against her bare skin. She glanced towards the showers for an instant, then decided it would be a better idea not to. She didn’t know what that suspicious green mark was and she didn’t care to. The door swung open again, and she cracked a small smile. 

“Forget something Marian?”

“I know we're both dark haired beauties, but we're not that similar. I’m vaguely offended.”

“Urg”, is all Aveline can say. She takes as much time to turn around as she can, trying to fill her movements with as much disgust as she can. Mustering a glare, she readied herself to meet her rival’s glare. But Isabela’s gaze wasn’t on her face, and it was only as Aveline followed her expression, a mixture of intrigue and mischievousness, that she realised what she was looking at. 

_“Don’t do that.”_

Isabela’s head jerked back, looking Aveline in the eye. “Why shouldn’t I? And really Big Girl, going for the cheapest sports bra you can find? You’re doing yourself a disservice.”

“We’ve just been doing sport, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“With the way you played, you couldn’t blame me for not”, Isabela retorted, words icy even as her grin grew wider. “Tell me, how did it feel to get beaten like that? How much did it hurt?”

“Probably not as bad than your fishnet burns must be after an hour of shoving your ass in people’s faces.”

Isabela chuckled, her tongue darting forward to lick her lips. Something rose in Aveline’s stomach, something that she put down to nausea. “That’s a good one. Bet you’ve been practising it.”

“I don’t practise for you.”

“Ooh, bit defensive there, aren’t we Big Girl”, Isabela winked, and Aveline felt her gaze drop to Isabela’s lips. “It’s okay to admit you love me.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Before she had time to think about it, a low throaty growl rolled up from Aveline’s chest. Tangling her fingers in Isabela’s jersey, barely taking time to note the wide eyes her actions were receiving. She pulled, roughly jerking the other woman forward, before crashing their lips together. Isabela was smirking into the kiss, and Aveline could tell, even as her eyes met Aveline’s in a wild glare. A few seconds passed, neither of them daring to move. Then Isabela slid her hands down Aveline’s back. Aveline could feel rough fingertips digging into the dips of her hipbones, trying to pull her closer. Against her better judgement, she let Isabela shift her, her back pressing against the cold tiled wall as they pulled their lips apart.

“Didn’t realise you were so fond of me, Big Girl.” Isabela’s voice was low and soft, teasing and enticing all at once. Aveline shivered, suddenly away of how cold the room was.

“Shut up.” Her voice was harsher than she expected, and Aveline mentally kicked herself as she saw Isabela flinch. The hands around her hips retreated, until only the tips were still against her skin. 

“I’ll be going then.” 

She pulled away, looking at the ground, avoiding meeting Aveline’s gaze. Something in Aveline clenched in response, deep in her stomach, and she knew she had to swallow her pride. 

“Wait!” Isabela’s glance returned to her and she swallowed a growing lump in her throat. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”

The smirk returned and Aveline began to suspect Isabela had been baiting her. Not that she cared, she remarked, as soft palms- kept that way by some exotic cream- cradled the sides of her face. She could feel Isabela’s breath on her face, mouth just a few centimetres away from her own lips. 

“You want me, don’t you Big Girl.”

Aveline nodded, desperate for Isabela to kiss her again. 

_“Say it.”_

She was too desperate to argue. 

“I want you Isabela.”

The touch of lips against hers was surprisingly gentle, and Aveline felt herself relax, the tension in her back dissipating as she closed her eyes. Isabela’s tongue gently touched against her bottom lip, and she opened her lips, tilting her head sideways as she did so. As Isabela’s fingers tangled in her hair roughly, not caring if she pulled, she cupped her hands around the shorter woman’s hips. And then there was a sharp pain as Isabela bit down. 

After the first jolt of shock, Aveline groaned. Isabela stopped biting, slipping a tongue into her mouth, darting forward just enough to leave her wanting, then retreated. Her breathing heavy, Aveline noticed how strong Isabela’s chapstick was, the potent smell of artificial cola flavour washing over her. 

As Isabela’s clashed with Aveline’s, she brought a hand up to cup her breast, still confident as ever. Her movements lacked any sort of delicate nature, lacked any desire to be romantic. Aveline briefly wondered how many other women Isabela had done this with, then decided it was not a question she wanted answered. Her hands slipped further down Isabela’s body, tugging at the seam of her shorts. 

_More. She wanted more._

Much as she loved being here in Isabela’s arms, Aveline pushed her away, opening her eyes to meet confused brown ones. 

“Are you going to tease or are we going to do something real?”

Isabela laughed, a soft husky laugh, and Aveline wanted to punch her. In the mouth. With her mouth. Again. 

“Get on the bench.”

It was a command, not a request, and that was something Aveline wasn’t used to. 

“I wouldn’t sit on that bench with clothes on.”

Isabela shrugged. “Too bad. This can be done standing up, but I don’t think you’d be up to that.”

“What are you implying?”

“That you’re inexperienced.”

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Isabela.”

“An ex-husband who thinks a minute and a half of pounding is acceptable doesn’t count.”

“Shut up.”

Isabela’s face was too close to hers to be sure, but Aveline was sure she winked again. “I would say ‘make me’ again, but you’re the one stopping that from happening.”

Aveline sighed. “Fine.”

Aveline regretted lying on the bench the moment she did it. It was stone hard, but with a rough surface that dug into her skin. And she was convinced she was going to get a splinter with every movement. And even looking at Isabela, sitting between her parted legs, her smirk dissipating into something that looked scarily genuine, didn’t make up for it, glorious a sight as it was. 

Isabela looked up and met Aveline’s stare, her fierce gaze filled with the promise of something that Aveline couldn’t identify. She swallowed, the hungry gaze making her nervous, then reached back, pulling the last of her hair from the band. Then she shook her head, her hair like a tangle of copper filaments. She felt her skin flush red hot, avoiding meeting Isabela’s eyes. Fingers hooked under the waistband of Aveline’s shorts, brushing against her skin as they were pulled down her legs, torturously slowly.   
Isabela’s touch made every one of her hairs stand up on end, the trace of her fingertips sending sparks along her skin as she gently massaged Aveline’s thighs. The fingertips were replaced by Isabela’s lips, soft kisses tracing circles over the skin. Aveline frowned. It was far too gentle. 

“I like you better when you’re a monster.”

There was no audible response, but Aveline felt teeth clench down on her skin, her body jerking upwards in response. Isabela pulled away. 

“You sure Big Girl?”

Aveline took a moment to breath. “I’m absolutely sure. Hurry up.”

She felt teeth against her flesh again, but only for an instant before they let ago. About to protest, she opened her lips, just as Isabela bit down on her again. Aveline grunted, despite herself, and the sound echoed throughout the empty locker room as Isabela repeated the action, always moving and always shifting. Aveline felt like her thighs were just a mess of bruises as Isabela wrapped her arms around them, throwing them over her shoulders, fingers digging into miraculously unbruised skin. Giving one last quick glance at her, to make sure she wanted this, she saw Aveline nod. And then in a moment it happened, Isabela’s tongue pressing in, a flat, delicious pressure.

Aveline screwed her eyes shut, grasping at Isabela’s hair with both hands, fingers tangling as Isabela pulls back, drawing a tongue against her folds. And by the time Isabela moves her tongue to circle her entrance, she was all but begging, a wordless cry that she did not know the origin of spurring Isabela on. It takes Isabela running her tongue over her clit, leaving her wreathing on the bench as one hand moved to spread her open with one, then two, then three fingers, for her to actually beg. Her thighs quiver and shake as Isabela gave one last infuriatingly slow lick. Aveline’s muscles clenched as she let out one last groan, hips bucking against Isabela as she came harder than she thought possible.


End file.
